Comfort
by Gentle Breezes
Summary: She finds him sitting on the roof of the old Underground base two weeks after the Daystar's destruction. If he's not smiling, it's no mystery to her why. She knows what he'd seen out there in the desert. Focus on Torn/Tess family-like relations. No pairings.


**A/N: ** I don't own that Jak series. I only have 4 of the games, and some beautiful (and frustrating) memories.

* * *

She finds him sitting on the roof, staring out over the sea of shingles and concrete below, completely still though the wind is rough this evening. At least he doesn't have a gun like most other times. Perhaps he'll leave old routines completely behind one day.

Barefoot from a moment's indecision about shoes before climbing the narrow staircase to the roof, Tess walks with careful steps as the cold stone bites her skin. He'd probably heard her the moment she'd reached the roof, but remains unmoved as she comes to stand by him.

Suppressing a shiver from the onslaught of wind, she tugs her simple shawl closer and scans the horizon out of habit, looking for signs of things that might herald trouble. They stay silent; he doesn't want to say anything, and she doesn't even know what to say. Everyone in the base seems to know, somehow, about what'd happened out near Spargus after Jak had taken care of the Daystar two weeks ago. The former Underground members still clinging to the base as a home talk about how the blonde elf that was their savior really was the no-good kid they'd always thought he was. Talk of the Governess is decidedly tamer by way of how fewer expletives were dropped, but the underhanded turns of phrase and subtle metaphors promising humiliation (if it could be done) flowed plentifully. They said nothing in front of Torn of course. But he knew they talked about it whenever he wasn't around. That he hasn't told them to stop is either a sign of how depressed he might be or how he's just too tired to give a damn.

He'll never let on that he's either of these things. People picked up a lot of bad habits from their time as Undergrounders in order to combat the loneliness, the lack of interaction, the lack of the caring and comforting environment most families provided. Torn had brought wordlessness with him even before joining, and sometimes it still worried her, how he wouldn't say a anything about what he felt no matter how much time passed. The only way she could ever tell was by looking at his eyes, which were currently staring with steely, tired resolution into horizon, searching for something to remind him of why he bothers with the things he does sometimes.

The useless condolences won't do any good, but she has to start somewhere.

"I'm sorry," she says softly, resisting the urge to look at him and figure out if he's even feeling anything at all, staring at her toes instead.

He continues to stare off into the horizon, letting out a derisive snort. It's a soft noise though, almost too soft for her to hear. A little deterred but not ready to give up, she gently continues.

"...Wanna talk about it?"

This time he lets out a tiny growl under his breath, and he does the impossible by scowling deeper than he already was.

"None a' your damn business," he rasps, eyes trailing away from her direction.

She doesn't bristle at the harshness of his words because she knows why. And maybe it hurts a little and maybe he has no excuse, but she understands. So she sighs a little, tugs off her shawl, and closes the conversation. "...Alright," she says softly, draping the cloth around his shoulders. "Just don't stay up too late."

She's turns heel with the military precision he'd taught her himself, and gets halfway across the roof when she hears his voice.

"Tess."

She turns around. Over his shoulder, one tired eye regards her before he turns his head away again.

"...Sorry," he mumbles.

A slow, kindly smile blooms on her face, and she shakes her head as if he'll see. "It's alright, Torn," she assures.

Silence hangs for an eternity before he speaks again. "...Join me?"

They both pretend he hasn't asked as she pads over to the broken chimney he's seated on. The wind blows and he keeps hold of the shawl between fingers knotted from trigger-pulling and an unsubstantial diet. When she sits, she rests her head on his shoulder and he doesn't complain.

"...I'm sorry," she says again after a while, her voice a whisper, pressing her cheek into his shoulder. He'd never accept a hug.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees his jaw clench, but not out of anger, his eyebrows furrowing one degree more while his scowl drops, and the sigh he heaves holds more resignation and heartbreak than he ever could have put into words. One arm loops around her shoulder. She knows he's not trembling from the cold. She wonders how long it will take before the dam holding back everything will break, or if he'll allow it to break at all.

"...It's okay, kid," he says quietly.

* * *

**A/N again: **By the way, I always found it terrible that they had Ash kiss Jak in the third game. I wanted to knock some heads together, but my TV screen and the dimension I live in prevented that. I'm sure the rage of angry fans when the game was released still festers on, so I'll save the soapbox shouting about this ~_delightful~_ plot twist for another time. _  
_

I have a tiny headcanon that sprouted into many pages of things that aren't published, which involves Tess adopting Torn as an older brother in the Underground, Torn hating it, and then becoming so used to it that it comes naturally by the time Tess gets older. If you haven't guessed, that is what this drabble involves. I've already written one other fic involving this idea, and this won't be the last I'm sure.

Thanks for reading!


End file.
